Wilde Oats is an online literary magazine. It celebrates gay and bisexual fiction. It embraces the joys and agonies of life for gay and bisexual men, from hard gritty realism to wild flights of romantic fantasy.

Wilde Oats has gone through some big changes in recent months: we have moved to a new server and changed our appearance. The journal is published three times a year - in April, August and December. Between issues, you can find out what's happening, read snippets of new stories, see new artwork, and keep up to date by visiting us here.

Monday, February 25, 2013

EXCERPT: Closer to Fine, by John Jay Buol

(The following is from the current issue of Wilde Oats. To read the full story by John Jay Buol, go directly to the story HERE.)

My parents arrived for Thanksgiving with my sister in tow and, as a special surprise to me, my grandmother.
Cindy confided to me that Grammy had warned her that the folks at home would be burning crosses on her
lawn when they found out about me, and that if they could not change my mind with this visit I would be cut
out of the family will. I guess she had come to take part in a gay intervention. I hoped the rest of them had
slightly less aggressive agendas.

I found them at their Santa Monica hotel the afternoon of their arrival, and I decided to walk them down the
Third Street Promenade. It was a perfect, blue-sky L.A. day. After fifteen minutes of strolling, we picked an
Italian place that had a table available outside. We-everyone but Grammy, who wasn't ready to face me
yet-sat silently and looked over the menu. The waiter came, we ordered, and when the menus had been
collected, the conversation turned to the weather and how the local teams had been faring in football. I
could tell the "topic of interest" was being politely ignored, and I gathered my strength. It was time to throw
down.

"So, Dad," I began. He was sitting directly across the table. "I guess we should talk about me being gay."

Silence. We all sort of tried to look at one another. Clearly everyone was surprised by my outburst.

Dad had not expected to be challenged in such a manner, and I could tell Cindy was looking away, perhaps
to stifle a laugh. I looked desperately toward her for support. She looked at my father.

He said, "Well, Jay, all I have to say is: if you're going to do that, you might as well kill somebody."